Chapter Text
The icy, bitter daggers were slashing into her face and burring her into the snow. The young girl decided not to fight anymore: she is a fifteen year old from district twelve, what was the point of going back. She was a murderer. Everyone saw what that did to Haymitch, and they could only guess he once was a polite person, an actual living person instead of a slop living on an alcohol addiction. Delilah didn't want to have the same fate.
'He killed me' She thought as the canon went off.
So this was it. This was what it was like to die. You feel like you’re in a deep sleep, but it's unusually comforting.
As she felt herself let go, silence was all her ears could hear. The snow had blocked them within the first few hours of the games, but…she couldn't deny what she heard. A muffled voice spoke: "Winner of the 73rd Hunger Games! - Delilah ..."
It's funny, the tricks your brain can play. When you die it's just a deep sleep and your subconscious, for a second Delilah thought she actually lived. Her, a scrawny teenager from district 12, survived the hunger games. She was battling with a guy from 5. He had the winning card, a machete. She was done for. A small dagger can't exactly cut someone's abdomen in half…, stab an eyeball out at best. The girl hadn't even known Haymitch for a considerable amount time, but she could hear him screaming as if he was next to her, shouting all the ways the opponent could be killed. No one he has mentored ever made it to the death row, not even the top 7. And when she felt a cold object brush through her, sending a different type of shiver through her bones, and not from the cold, she felt almost kind of bad. Haymitch and Effie were so close to finding some closure from all the kids that have died in their care.
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Yet Delilah could suddenly see a sliver of light come into view. A different kind of light. Harsh and blinding her through the shadows her heavy eyelids created. Here she was with her eyes flickering open and adjusting to the harsh surroundings of the medical wing. Seeing humans, nurses stitching up cuts, stabbing countless needles into her that are connected to all sorts of tubes. Some are taking notes, whilst others are closely observing; barking out the occasional order. “She’s still alive!”